up for it. Bill was trapped. His career as a spy for the IRA was clearly at an end and Kinsella wanted one last shot from him. If Bill refused he could find himself out in the cold. Or even worse. Bill could only pray that the job wasn’t going to be a bad one.
‘What do I have to do?’ Bill asked.
‘That’s the way, Bill.’
It was the only way. Bill had to keep some friends in high places. He had nowhere to run otherwise.
‘Before you say what it is, Father, I’m asking you to consider who I am, and what I’ve done for you.’
‘Bill. Do you think I’d ask you to do anything I didn’t think you couldn’t do in your sleep and get away with? You’re the only one who could do this job.’
‘What is it?’
‘You’re going to deliver something,’ he said, picking the briefcase up off the floor and putting it on the table. Bill had wondered what the case was for - it didn’t look like Kinsella’s style - but he’d forgotten about it once they’d started talking. He wondered if it was a bomb of some kind. This was already looking very bad.
‘It’s a bomb?’
‘There’s not one piece of metal on or in this case,’ Kinsella said.‘The whole thing’s made of plastic.’ He opened it. Inside was a sponge mould with a piece cut out of the centre, nothing else, no components, no wires, no explosives. ‘You can get this past any metal or explosives detector in the world.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Bill said.
‘It’s not complete, of course. There’s a component that fits snugly into here,’ he said, indicating the gap in the sponge.
‘What?’
‘A piece of glass with a liquid in it,’ Father Kinsella said.
‘All you need to do, when the time comes, is lay the case down on its side and stand on it, right in the middle, your weight fully on it.The glass will break and release the liquid.’
‘And what’s the liquid?’ Bill asked, his mind going into overdrive, producing possibilities he prayed were not even close to the truth.
‘It’s a message that will tell the world in no uncertain terms that we want our freedom, we want our country back, and we are prepared to go to any lengths to get it. You do this, Bill, and we believe we will win the fight that has taken centuries and cost thousands of lives. The Brits are on the fence. This will shove them over. You’ll be an even greater hero, lad.’
‘What’s the liquid?’
Kinsella knew Bill would work it out if he hadn’t already, and even a wrong guess in the right direction was the same as him knowing the truth. ‘It’s a chemical.’
‘Now we’re into biological warfare? You must be mad. That’s not the message we want to send out to the world.’
‘Hold on to your horses for just one minute, me lad. Hear me out. It’s a virus. It needs to be transmitted by people. It’s not a nerve gas or anything like that. When the bottle is broken, as long as they contain it, it won’t harm anyone. If you leave it the second it’s broken, you’ll be safe. But where you’re going to
‘What building?’
‘You’ll be told later.’
Bill could see the point as Kinsella described it, even though he still believed it was crazy. But he could not reveal his concerns to Father Kinsella. If this man was capable of releasing a deadly virus into a city as populated as London, he was capable of anything. He wondered why he had never noticed how mad the priest was before this moment. It would seem that Bill had underestimated Kinsella as much as Kinsella had overestimated Bill.
‘Where is this virus?’ Bill asked.
‘You’re going to collect it. I’ll call you as soon as I have the details. Don’t go anywhere. Stay here and wait for my call. Is that clear?’
‘When is this going to happen?’
‘Tonight. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to cancel your evening,’ Kinsella said.
‘I’ll have to leave the country right away?’
‘It’s all taken care of.’ Father Kinsella put a hand on Bill’s shoulder and squeezed it like a father would his son. ‘It’s equally important to us that you get clean away. I’ll look after you, Bill.Your escape will be another slap in their faces and almost as much a victory as the attack itself.’
Bill nodded. ‘It makes sense,’ he said, wondering how the hell he was going to get out of this one.
‘Good lad,’ Father Kinsella said and left the briefcase on the table and went to the door. ‘You’ll receive full instructions in a while. Just remember: King’s Cross, platform 9.’ The priest opened the door and looked about the hall, checking it was clear. Before leaving he looked back at Bill. ‘You’re my greatest victory, Bill. I could never have dreamed that day when we first met in the cemetery that you would win the war for us. I’m proud of you, Bill.’
He closed the door behind him.
Bill felt suddenly weak and sat down. He took his drink and held it in his hands. They were surprisingly steady as he drained the glass into his mouth.
Hank estimated it had been at least an hour since the engines had suddenly reduced power, followed a few minutes later by a jolt as they came alongside. The boat was perfectly still now and the only sound was the throb of the generator that ran the lights and pumps.
No one had visited him since Brennan had left and Seamus had been taken away. That seemed like five hours ago, more or less.
Hank had worked out a loose plan of escape, very loose in fact, since it all depended on his acting ability to open up an opportunity, then his jailers’ reaction and, of course, fate. No matter how much the odds were stacked against him, he knew he had to try; there was no point just sitting and waiting to find out if he was to be executed. It was Brennan’s parting words that had convinced him of the uncertainty of his future; as Brennan had pointed out, Hank knew his name.
And then there was the virus. Hank had an obligation to alert the authorities in case they didn’t know. And wasn’t this the opportunity he had been waiting for all his life, the chance to do something truly heroic? Perhaps this was his destiny. He had considered all these things in the peaceful solitude of his dark and dingy cell and had fully motivated himself. Now he waited for the opportunity.
Since making the decision he had been exercising as best he could. He had remembered a lecture from a former Vietnam War prisoner during a survival training exercise years ago. The man had been held in a confined space for years and had kept himself fit using isometrics. It was quite simple and apparently very effective; Hank had felt the difference after just a few hours. It consisted of selecting a muscle group and pulling or pushing against an immovable force or one’s own body and holding the tension until exhausted. For instance, his hands were tied together, so he straightened them and tried to pull them apart. After a while, he could feel the pain in his shoulders as the burn set in. It was more tiring than Hank could have imagined, and even enjoyable. After a few experiments Hank decided to work from the bottom up, isolating as many muscles as he could. Since each muscle had an opposite, the challenge was finding a way to exercise them both. He pulled himself towards the bar, stopping himself with his feet, and held the tension. This exercised the biceps. Pushing away worked the triceps.
The door to the room opened and someone walked in. Hank relaxed.
Whoever it was sounded like they were searching through some tools or a box of nuts and bolts on a shelf.
‘Hello,’ Hank said.There was no reply. ‘Look, I need help. I’ve gotta go to the toilet. I’m in agony here.’
There was still no reply and whoever it was continued their search.
‘For God’s sake,’ Hank said. ‘Is it so difficult to be just a little humane? Why do I have to be in agony? Is torture part of everything you guys do?’
